But Now it Always Floods with Rain
by wyestmsiylmys
Summary: "Alana I need... I still need to take you to the hospital," he told her watching her deflate even more- how was that even possible? "I know... I know, can we just..." finally looking up to meet his gaze for only a couple of seconds before dropping back down. Will craved more, "sit for a minute." "As long as you need."


**Warnings:** Mentions of rape. Rape aftermath. Nothing too graphic or harsh in this chapter though.

**Note: **Written for a Hannibal Kink Meme prompt thingy

I hope it's okay :)

**Chapter One.**

It was late when the familiar, shrill ring of the phone cut harshly through the still of the little house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Unfortunately, this was far from a rare occurrence.

No, it was a disheartening how common it was for Will Graham to be woken in the early hours by Agent Crawford needing him to be dragged to one grotesque crime scene or another- although it was sadly even more common to _not_ actually be woken by the phone; to already be downstairs two fingers of whiskey in the glass by his side, his pack gathered around his feet, and his attention firmly placed on the thin strands of thread and feathers as he delicately fashioned together yet another fishing lore.

Well, it was better than dreaming.

Tonight was one of those nights, and Will huffed, unimpressed as he noted the time (2:37am), finished off the whiskey, and pushed away from the desk to follow the sound of the ringing phone, the sound of Winston's claws on the floor as he followed him out of the room, curious as to why Master was suddenly moving having been hunched over for so long. Just because he was up so late didn't mean he had to leave the warmth and safety of his home.

He didn't bother to look at the caller ID, why bother? There was only one person who'd find the reason to call him at this hour. "They aren't paying us enough for these hours, Jack" he said by way of greeting, not bothering to hide the snarky edge to his tone. There was no reply and the silence stretched on an uncomfortable length, "Jack?"

"I'm sorry Will, it's too late I shouldn't have called." Although it was clear the voice didn't belong to Jack Crawford, it was so quiet and nervous that it took a couple of seconds for Will to even pair the voice with Alana Bloom. No, that couldn't be right, Alana was so strong so sure of herself and confident, a part of him genuinely believed it would be impossible for the woman to sound so shaken and wrecked even if she wanted to.

"Alana?" he had to ask, needed the confirmation, hoping he was mistaken but knowing he wasn't. A small sniffle was all the reply he had. It didn't sound like she was crying now, but was clear she had been. Blue eyes found the clock again, annoyance drained his body to make way for the concern for _why _she'd need to call at this hour. Alana would never call so late unless she had no other choice, unless it was important. And _why _had she been crying? "No, Alana, I was up anyway, the, err... The dogs were whining to go out," it was a lie, and Will didn't know why he'd felt the need to lie, to justify just why he was awake, but evidently he did. "What's happened? Is everything okay?"

Another pause, this one seemed to go on even longer, and was filled with _something _more ominous, the hair stood up on the back of his neck at the drawn our pause.

He could hear another sniff, "n-no," she said finally, the word was so soft, so quiet Will found himself holding his breath, straining to hear, "no- can you... I'm sorry I know it's late..." a sigh, and Will could practically see her head drop, her hand brush her hair back from her face, frustration at her own inability to articulate what she was trying to, "something... something's happened, I know it's so late but can you... maybe come here... To my house... Now."

"I'm on my way," he promised already going up the stairs taking them two at a time to put some jeans on over the tight blue boxers he'd worn to bed that night, she sounded so quiet, so unsure, so _not _Alana, there was really no other option than to get there, than to do whatever it was she asked of him right then, without question. Well, with one question, "Alana, are _you_ okay?"There was a beat and:  
"I don't know."  
"I'm literally walking on the front door now," okay, he wasn't, but he would be within seconds, "do you want to stay on the phone?" she didn't, and will hung up after promising to not be long, wishing she'd change her mind so he could stay on the line.

The one good thing about the roads at this time was that there was very little traffic, and Will was able to make the trip into Baltimore in record time, granted he may have broken one or two laws in the process, but a ticket or two was hardly important in the grand scheme of things. But still it felt like the drive had taken hours, the entire time all Will could concentrate on was wondering what had happened. He'd had very little to go on, _something _had happened, obviously something bad, and she didn't know if she was okay.

Eventually, Will found himself on the familiar front porch, hand raised already knocking on Alana's front door.

He could hear her moving from somewhere inside the house, and saw the curtain in the widow by the door shift as she checked who was there, immediately followed by the sound of the key turn and then, finally the door was open and there she was in the flesh. "Hey," in that same quiet voice from the phone call was that much worse, that much more heartbreaking in person.

The first thing Will noticed, was the black eye, although clearly fresh and not yet settled, it was already angry and was going to be a bad one, all ready will could see the edges of the bruise creep to cover such a large portion of her face. It wasn't the only injury on her face; another bruise was forming on her jaw just below a nasty split lip. _Someone hurt her. Someone hit her again and again. _ Her hair was still wet, although starting to dry at in curls at the ends, and she smelt distinctly of soap and shampoo, _clean_. He watched her as she timidly stepped to the side letting him in before quickly locking the door up tight again. "The living room is just this way," she said leading the way. It wasn't necessary, he'd been over enough times to know his way around, but it filled the awkward quiet, it delayed the inevitable questions, and he followed without word.

She didn't look at him, not directly, her stare firmly settled on his shoulder, arms folded across her chest protectively. It was unusual, he wasn't used to being on the receiving side of a refusal of eye contact, and for the first time in years, he found himself craving it. Instead he allowed his own gaze to skip from one injury to the other, knowing he'd never forget the painful contrast between the darkening bruises and her naturally fair, although now looked ashen and sick, tone.

Alana went across to the sofa on the far side of the room putting the most distance between them that she could, and as she did, Will took in the room. It was... well, it was normal. It wasn't trashed or ransacked, it wasn't even messy, everything seemed to be perfectly in its place- as always with her. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but that wasn't it, _normal _wasn't it. The door to the kitchen was open and that looked normal too. Whatever happened, it hadn't happened here. His attention went firmly back to his friend and Will couldn't _not_ notice how slow she was as she tried to sit on the comfortable sofa, nor her harsh wince stabbed into his chest as she was finally seated.

He had a feeling what was coming, his own intuition quickly coming to conclusions before Alana even suggested hints, and he silently pleaded to be wrong.

"Alana?" he asked, staying on his side of the room, not wanting to crowd her, not wanting to scare her if he was right- he knew he was. "What happened?"

Alana looked away, not even looking in his direction now as her chest inflated with a breath, preparing herself, buying herself more time, and weighing every word on her tongue carefully, none of them tasting right, these were words she'd never thought she'd say.

Alana fidgeted, it was a strange sight, in all the time he'd known her, Will couldn't remember once he'd seen her fidget, until she finally settled leaning against the arm rest, quickly changing her mind and saying instead:"I shouldn't have dragged you out here," she decided instead, "I'm sorry,"  
"Stop Apologising," he pleaded more than ordered before she'd even finished speaking the hushed apology, and asked again: "what happened?" More fidgeting, more internal debate, choosing her words carefully,  
"There was someone in my room," it was so blunt, so matter-of-fact, it almost didn't seem real.  
"What?" _No. _Alana sniffed once, her hand flying to wipe the tear that had escaped from her eye before she'd even have chance to stop it, from her cheek quickly.  
"I woke up. And there was someone there."

She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, eyes still on the rug, noticing an old, small stain in the corner, her conscious trying to focus on the stain, the memory of where it came from (Where _did _that even come from?) instead of the events of the night. Watching her in that moment, Will couldn't help but notice how physically small she looked wrapped up in the small ball, how young she looked, her tone was blunt and to the point, but her body language betrayed how violated she felt.

Alana wasn't crying, save that lone tear she'd tried to hide. Not now, but she sniffed, and her eyes were red and puffy exposing the tears she'd already shed, and all Will wanted was to race across the room, wrap his arms around her, and make it all better, but knowing how inappropriate such an action was. He'd never been one to particularly enjoy physical contact, and it was practically unheard of that Will Graham would _initiate _it, but in that moment, looking at her sat there, looking so heartbroken, wrapped in her ball it took everything he had to stop himself striding over there.

But he didn't, he just stood there, letting her speak the little she did, letting her work her way through it in her own time. She scoffed shaking her head,  
"I didn't even realise he was there until he was on me, I was asleep and... I couldn't" _no._ Alana stopped, instead shaking her head again.

The pendulum swung once, twice, thre- "don't," Alana demanded, bringing him out of the start of his reverie, "please don't go there. Not now, don't be him here." She admitted, there was something so surreal about how lost she sounded, that shamed him immediately for going there now, but his empathy was difficult to control.  
"Sorry."

He didn't know what to do. Didn't know what she wanted, so he slowly made his way to the seating area, sitting in a large plush chair instead of the sofa, where he really wanted to be. It felt wrong being here, now, he was a man, he was the enemy and he couldn't help but wonder why she'd called him and not one of her female friends. Or someone who'd know what to do, someone who wouldn't be so damn useless. But she didn't, she'd called him for help, for comfort. And he didn't know what to do or say, he just sat there, quiet and useless. She deserved better than what he could give her here.

Silence descended, and he looked over at her again, pieces sliding into place and his heart dropped, "you showered," he stated dumbly, wincing immediately. Alana had just told him she'd been raped, and that was the first thing he came out with. Fucking thoughtless asshole. But she shouldn't have, sure he could understand the need but there would have been... (god, it made him feel sick) there would have been evidence, that it was lost now. Alana looked down at herself, nodding, knowing the same thing,  
"he made me," god, that was worse, "it was cold."  
"I'm sorry."

_Sorry. _It seemed like some sort of running theme between these two, would anything be said tonight without being followed by an immediate apology?

It took every ounce of every type of strength he had not to move over and cradle her to his chest, kiss he crown of her head and hunt down the fucker who'd dared hurt her. They were quiet for a little longer, Will felt useless but Alana seemed to just want that, him there them quiet while she tried to process the trauma. Eventually she broke the silence, "I think he took my underwear," it wasn't directed at him, in fact, he wasn't sure she even realised she'd spoken more thinking out loud. The idea cause bile for rise in his throat and Will had to physically swallow, before clearing his throat, voicing a fact they both knew.

"Alana I need... I still need to take you to the hospital," he told her watching her deflate even more- how was that even possible? God, he'd give anything to just make it better for her, take the pain away for her. Hell, he'd even take this trauma for her if he could.  
"I know... I know, can we just..." finally looking up to meet his gaze for only a couple of seconds before dropping back down. Will craved more, "sit for a minute."

"As long as you need." They stilled: Alana processing, Will waiting patiently for her to be ready, running through his head at what had to happen next, who had to be called, the route to the closest hospital, anything other than what had happened to her, anything that would stop the pendulums swing.


End file.
